Songs of Darkness and Dismay
by sweet-exile
Summary: Giles accepts the inevitability of his life


Songs of Darkness and Dismay  
  
Rating: PG angst  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters and for their sake it's just as well.  
  
Notes: set between seasons 2 & 3.  
  
'Despair is the foreknowledge of the future; an absolute certainty of what is to come. Striping away the illusion of freewill, eroding hope and leaving only despair'  
  
Giles was late, he'd left it too long and the running was much too hard, he had to stop. The sun was already down and the only thing left, was the vain hope it wasn't punctual. But turning into his drive that hope was shot to pieces, as there it was the same place as every other night.  
  
Giles stopped, out of breath, trying hard not to show it but failing, he was bent over hands on his knees trying to get as much air in his lungs as possible.  
  
"Oh dear are you ok?" It was full of false concern. Looking up Giles saw the start of a smile.  
  
"Why out so late? You should be tucked up in your safe little house, there's all sorts of wickedness out tonight."  
  
The smile was full now and Giles fought hard to keep his nerves under control. He knew it could smell his fear and as it came closer he was sure it could hear his thoughts.  
  
//Ah and there it was, the kick of adrenaline. Pupils dilate, heart quickens and there's that sinking feeling in the pit of the gut. Could almost hear the questions as they spun in the watcher's head. "Stay or fight, flee or die"//  
  
//Knew those feelings well, used to have them. Time now for the nightly game, never caught him outside before, wonder what made him so late. Had to be content with threats until tonight, this was new and could be interesting.//  
  
"Rupert you know why I'm here all you've got to do is tell me where they are and you can go about your merry way. You can tell yourself I forced it out of you if that helps to curb those guilty feelings. I really wouldn't mind helping you out that way."  
  
Giles breathed deeply he wouldn't, couldn't give up now he knew the carnage that this thing could reek if it found them. Giles had hid them too well and it hadn't found them, so every night it would come to threaten and mock. It couldn't kill him, not yet at least and from the safety of his house he could resist. Except now he wasn't there, he'd been careless; running back to get that book he should have left it in the library it would still be there tomorrow but would he?  
  
Swallowing hard, desperate to get his heart back in his chest, finally speaking "You're wasting your time, they are safe and when Buffy returns.."  
  
Hand on his throat, crushing, its face close enough for Giles to see the gold flecks in it's eyes.  
  
"Stop with the Buffy talk, she not coming back. She sent her boy to the hell he belonged then took the first wagon outta Dodge."  
  
It let him go and Giles collapsed on the ground coughing, gulping air. "You don't know that." Instantly he knew that was not clever, pissing off the angry vampire in his garden was not the best way of coming out of this alive. He tensed expecting the worst but it never came. Looking up, it crouching down in front of him watching thoughtfully.  
  
"No, no I don't, you're right as usual but we can discuss this and many other things same time tomorrow. You can think on the direction that will take and how many fingers you can bare to lose, if it's not to my liking. Cause I've been reading up on torture; so fascinating. Oh, the number of books on the subject, I had no idea, researching has never been so much fun. You were very naughty holding out on me like that. As a librarian you must get that warm glow just knowing how much I love my new reading habit."  
  
With that it was gone no doubt off to tear Sunnydale apart looking for the people Giles held most dear. The ones he'd hidden away with spells and incantations to protect them, out of the reaches of the evil that now stalked them. Until Buffy returned and could slay it.  
  
There was always that small niggling doubt that Buffy would never come back and it would be up to him. He hadn't told the council; he just couldn't face that trial, all those questions and recriminations. Anyway he knew she wasn't dead or they would have contacted to recall him back to England.  
  
He wasn't sure of the details of what happened just that an unknown vampire pissed at the slayer for stopping Angelus. Found the slayer gone, had targeted her friends and that was the tragedy; it hadn't been the big bad everyone was expecting but a random vampire attack devastating their lives. It was senseless, stupid and completely in keeping with the theme of his life.  
  
He was there for the aftermath though, taking care of his young charges and secreting them away. Making excuses to their parents, something about an extracurricular trip with the school, it wouldn't take them long to be suspicious but it seemed the best thing under the circumstances. All he had left was the hope that his slayer would return in time but that hope was growing dimmer by the day.  
  
| |  
  
The day slipped by and with the setting sun it would be at his door again, he couldn't look at that face without feeling the loss and guilt. He had broken the rules letting others know about Buffy. He should have insisted that Buffy worked alone in the way it had always been and now all the reasons for that were staring right at him. But still he could not kill it. In his mind it had no name; it was a thing. Made the pain a little easier but he still had to look at its face and all his training wasn't enough not after the torture session with Angelus. He no longer had the strength, the only solace to be found was at the bottom of a bottle and it was killing him.  
  
He felt weak and useless, the guilt and loneliness were his to carry and every night he cried into his glass, as the alcohol dulled the pain just enough to sleep and stave off the nightmares. But still he woke in a cold sweat and in that split second between sleep and awake; he was ok if only for a second and then it would all flood back and he was alone. He couldn't risk visiting the hiding place to find small comfort in case it tracked him later.  
  
Tap Tap Tap. Giles didn't have to look up to know that it was at his door again bang on time, ironic that undeath made it punctual.  
  
"Come out and play, it's lonely out here. I can't seem to find my friends, you don't know where they happened to go?"  
  
It sounded so pleading and lost that Giles' hand was on the door handle before he realised what he was doing. Jerking his arm away, he couldn't believe he'd so nearly given in. He stumbled back to his chair and slumped there hoping to wait it out, determined not to slip again.  
  
It stayed out there all night begging to be let in, saying that it was lonely and that it just wanted to talk but it left as usual just before the dawn. Giles had sat there stony faced and resolute while all the time his heart was braking.  
  
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Nights rolled together and all he could do was wait, until Buffy returned or it finally killed him. Every night was the same, he couldn't stand it any longer with a deep sigh he went into the garden to wait for the evitable.  
  
He watched as it strolling casually down his street not a care in the world, turning into his driveway, stopping as it saw him sat there, could see it's surprise and then delight at this new challenge as it cocked it's head sideways, could almost hear the inner workings of it's mind as it took in the situation, forming a plan.  
  
"Well this is new" Giles could hear the amusement in it's voice. "What's with the change of heart Rupert?"  
  
"You know I'm not going to give you the location, this standoff is futile, time for the end."  
  
"Oh I see, you think I'm only here to find out where you hid the gang, that's one reason but there are others. Don't you think I like coming to see you? That I always enjoyed seeing you? Hero worship I guess, maybe the beginnings of a crush."  
  
It approached him and was now close enough to touch. He hadn't expected this, thought it would hurt him, even kill him but its soft words were more horrifying than any pain inflicted. He tried to back off but was prevented by strong hands grabbing his wrists.  
  
"Don't leave me." It purred, "I was wrong in my desire to hurt you, I can be good if you'll let me. I can be nice, just let me show you how."  
  
It kissed him, gently pushing his lips apart, hand on the back of his head, tongue moving in exploring, tasting.  
  
He heard moaning, //Oh God it was me!//.  
  
His brain recoiled at the thought of pleasure gained from this unnatural act: this thing. His exploits in his younger Ripper days were nothing to be proud of but this. //no no no//. had to stop.  
  
Found he couldn't; found he was being pulled closer. Tried to fight against the hand tangled in his hair, the other sliding down his back finding that place at the base of his spine to hold him tight.  
  
Trapped, he could not move and despite the screaming in his head he was kissing back his own tongue seeking to explore new ground.  
  
His brain switched off; the blood was needed elsewhere as his body responded to cool lips no longer on his own but planting soft touches along his cheek to whisper at his ear.  
  
"This won't hurt a bit"  
  
Giles knew what was coming next, moaned as fangs sank into his jugular.  
  
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His head ached, squinting against the dawn, Giles opened his eyes, surprised to find himself alive and on the couch. Stumbling through into the kitchen looking for something to drink his throat was dry and found it hard to swallow. Memories from the before night poured in as his hand flew up to his neck, heart sinking as he felt the puncture wounds. How he wished it had been some drink-induced nightmare but no, now he remembered everything, felt the shame and self-loathing burn in the pit of his stomach. He had betrayed everything, the council, Jenny, his slayer, her friends and his own moral code.  
  
On the fridge was a hastily written note: 'Thanks for the invite, later baby'.  
  
Giles spent the rest of the day in a daze, trying to detach himself from the events of the previous night. What he had done and the lack of self- control. His responses to it were too much to process and desperately tried to shut it all out but even so, there was a small part of him that would welcome it back into his arms.  
  
The very thought of it made him violently sick, this self revelation came as the sun was setting, it was coming for him and he would welcome it. His death was no longer a matter of chance; he knew it would be soon. And when the deathblow came, as he was certain it would, his heart would sing for it. 


End file.
